


all my wastelands flower

by Lise



Category: Doctrine of Labyrinths - Sarah Monette
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Sex, Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Service Top, Sibling Incest, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, this is not how you deal with your emotional issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: On the road, Felix is spiraling ever downward, and Mildmay's running low on ways to keep him from hitting the ground.





	all my wastelands flower

**Author's Note:**

> Still surprised to be in this fandom again! Still delighted to be in this fandom again. Thanks to [Lena](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com) for the idea for this fic, because what I always want are more excuses to write Felix/Mildmay - a pairing I like that takes some negotiating thanks to Mildmay being desperately _straight._
> 
> Thanks also to my lovely [beta](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), who keeps me going. 
> 
> The title of this fic comes from "Thickets" by Patrick Wolf, a very Felix song by a very Felix artist.

I knew I was being what could charitably be called 'difficult,' and yet I couldn't seem to stop. I could feel Mildmay's nearly infinite patience with me stretching to the breaking point, but that did not stop me - perhaps only made it worse. I hated myself for it and at the same time hated him for his tolerance, for the way he hunched his shoulders and refused to defend himself. I was sick of myself, sick _at_ myself. The Mirador, and Melusine dwindled behind us, and yet its shadow still hung over me. Every morning Mildmay chivvied me to my feet, and every morning I thought this might be the day I didn't get up. 

I dreamed of Gideon. Sometimes he damned me. Sometimes he was kind. I preferred the first. 

So when the river took me, cold and terrible, and all I had to do was just _stop--_

Well. It only seemed fair. 

But Mildmay dragged me out - of course Mildmay dragged me out, that was what he _did,_ because he didn't know how to do anything else. I told him the truth - _you should have let me die -_ and apparently that was enough to set him off screaming at me. I didn't absorb everything he said, but I gathered the rough sense of it. 

I was selfish enough for that to be a comfort, of sorts. 

"Are you gonna do that again," he asked me, when we stopped for the night.

_I don't know,_ was the truthful answer. It felt like I should, in some ways. Like I'd been wrong to let Mildmay pull me out at all. The future stretched out in front of me with nothing to recommend it. "I don't intend to go seeking out rivers to throw myself into," I said, gloriously snide. Mildmay kept his measured stare on me.

"I'd just pull you out," he said, and he would, too. He would probably drown himself doing it. That was my brother: limping after me even if it led him to perdition. There was a little voice in my head that said _he has to sleep sometimes._

"How delightfully noble of you," I said.

"Are you gonna do that again," Mildmay repeated. "Yes or no?" 

"No," I said. Lied? I honestly wasn't sure. "I'm going to sleep." I turned on my side and closed my eyes, and was glad Mildmay didn't try for further conversation.

That night, perhaps unsurprisingly, I dreamed of the Sim. 

It was Malkar holding my head underwater, and I kicked and fought but of course I'd never been able to get away from him, not really. Only then it was me with my hands around Gideon's throat, but it was also Mildmay's, and he was looking at me with his beautifully expressive green eyes. "Fight me," I said, but he didn't. Wouldn't. Never. And so I would keep hurting him and hurting him until he died of it; that was who I was and always would be. I looked at my hands and it was Malkar's rubies on my fingers. 

I woke up crying. 

For a while I just laid there, immobile, waiting for something to happen though I didn't know what. I rolled over to look at Mildmay; I could just make out the shadow of his shoulder in the dark, the sound of his soft breathing. A part of me leaned toward him, wanting to crawl in next to him and press my face against his neck and demand comfort. More than that, I wanted to lose myself, but there was only one way I knew to reach that, and I still was not so far gone as to be my brother's rapist. 

I stood as quietly as I could and walked away from him. The mule raised her head and looked at me, but she lost interest quickly. I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to go somewhere; I imagined walking, and walking, and wondered how far I would get. Were there bandits in this wilderness? 

"Felix?" I heard behind me, quiet and blurry. I paused. 

"Go back to sleep," I said, and cursed the way my traitorous voice wobbled.

"What're you doing," Mildmay said, and he sounded a lot more awake. I should have just said something simple and innocuous like _relieving myself,_ but I didn't think of it in time. Didn't think of anything in time, my eyes stinging, and I wanted to hit myself for being so _pathetic._

"Go back to sleep," I said again. It was the only thing I could think of to say, and I didn't expect it to work. Which it didn't; I heard Mildmay get up, the effort of it. 

"Want to give me some light?" He said, voice rough. _No,_ I thought, absurdly petty, but it was too late for me to get away now. The green glow of my witchlights cast eerie shadows, and I stared at them instead of him. "Going somewhere?" He asked. 

"For a walk," I said, but my voice still wouldn't stay steady.

"In the middle of the night?" 

_Leave me alone,_ I wanted to scream. I could make him, of course, like I'd tried to make him kill Isaac for me. I wondered briefly if I could make him kill _me._ I didn't say anything, just stared straight ahead and hunched my shoulders, and what came out of my mouth was, "it isn't going to get better." 

“What’s not,” Mildmay said. I could hear the wariness in it. 

“This,” I said, with a gesture that meant mostly _me._ Mildmay muttered something that even I couldn’t understand and then was silent. A tangle of things built in my chest. “I don’t want to be here. With you,” I added, spitefully and because I wanted him to go away, even though he wouldn’t. Or didn’t. His lack of response only made it worse, and I honestly could not have said if I wanted to hurt him or if I wanted him to hurt me. “Neither of us do, so–” Nothing. Still nothing, and something in me snapped. "So you can stop," I said, and my voice was suddenly high pitched, shrill. "Just - stop, give up, stop trying to _help._ "

"No," Mildmay said, in that growl that still, even now, stirred something in me. I recoiled from it, and from him. 

"I don't want--" 

"Fuck me _sideways,_ Felix, I don't care what you want right now!"

I stared at him, shivering and on the verge of cracking open. It felt like the rocks in the river earlier, something sliding under my feet, but I couldn't move. Mildmay heaved a sigh and said, "c'mere," in a rough voice that wouldn't take argument. I balked, reflexively - or I meant to, except that I was already walking back over to him with every intention of slinking back into my bedroll to pretend to sleep. 

Mildmay reached out and caught my arm. “What,” I said. I meant to snap it, but it didn’t come out that way. He looked like he was struggling for words.

“Felix,” he said, and then stopped and looked away, but he didn’t let go. “What d’you need,” he said. 

“Nothing you can give, darling,” I said with a tight smile, and detached myself - or I meant to, but Mildmay didn’t let go; he seemed to be struggling with something again. I saw his expression set and he pulled me toward him in one sharp jerk. 

“What d’you know about what I can give,” he said, and a shiver ran down my spine. My smile faltered.

And then he kissed me.

My thoughts went blank. I was frozen, his lips on mine; air fled my lungs and a part of me stirred, uncoiling from where it had slept. 

And then I remembered myself and pulled sharply away. For a wild moment I wondered if somehow I had wielded the obligation d’âme without realizing it, but I knew I had not. “Mildmay,” I said, voice trembling. “You don’t...I am not asking…”

“Felix,” Mildmay said, “shut up,” and kissed me again.

I had kissed him once before, to seal the obligation d’âme. This was different. _He is choosing this,_ a desperate part of me thought, and I was being tugged back and forth between yearning and the knowledge that Mildmay did not, _could_ not, want this, never had and never would, and I didn’t understand–

And did not want him to stop, which was how I knew I needed to make him. 

I put my hands on Mildmay’s shoulders and tried to push him back, though gently. “I can’t–”

Mildmay took a handful of my hair and pulled, just hard enough to make me gasp. “ _Hey,_ ” he said. “If you’re gonna say that you _want_ me to stop, okay, but otherwise - it ain’t just all up to you, what happens.”

Something deep in me both tensed and released. I stared mutely at my brother, stupid and uncomprehending. He let go of my hair and I missed it, wanted to tell him to take hold again and pull harder. _Monstrous, perverted,_ roared a voice in my head.

I wanted him. I had never stopped wanting him.

“Do you want me to stop,” Mildmay said. His voice still had that growl in it and a shiver ran down my spine. I swallowed convulsively.

“What do _you,_ ” I started to say, and Mildmay interrupted again.

“Kethe’s _cock,_ Felix, stop _fighting_ me,” he said, and as I stared at him, open-mouthed and too stunned to respond, he pointed at his bedroll and said, “go lie down.”

I went before I really thought about it, and when I realized I’d done so, almost shivered. Something in me was answering that wasn’t just desire - that was something else that I scarcely wanted to accept existed. I laid down and turned my head slightly to look at Mildmay, who was standing and looking at me - or he was until I looked at him, and then he limped over and lowered himself down to kneel next to me. I balled my hands into fists so I didn’t reach for him, hardly daring to move. I could hear myself breathing, something between anticipation and panic building in my chest.

Finally, just to break the tension, I pushed myself up toward him and reached out to pull his head down toward me. He grabbed my wrist in one hand and pushed me back down with the other, and it didn’t hurt but it did leave me very aware of how much stronger he was than me. My breath caught and my lips parted - I pressed upward against his hand to prove to myself that I couldn’t move him, and then slumped back. His fingers tightened around my wrist and I shivered again, harder.

“Mildmay,” I said, in a voice that sounded terribly small and uncertain. He looked at me and whatever expression was on my face softened his.

“You good?” he asked, and I wanted to laugh but it would have come out hysterical. I licked my lips and made myself nod, even though I wasn’t sure. I also didn’t want him to stop. I should want him to, I should _tell_ him to, _look what you’ve done, darling–_

Mildmay pressed down hard on my shoulder. “Hey,” he growled, “look at me,” and I was jerked back out of myself like he’d compelled me. He moved again, shifting over to straddle me, and then glanced at my hands and frowned a little. I could tell what he was thinking and a part of me thought of St. Crellifer’s and cried _no,_ but another part of me suddenly wanted to be helpless, to be bound where I couldn’t hurt anyone - couldn’t hurt _Mildmay._ (Even if I was, now, and always would–)

“Use my shirt,” I said, my voice unsteady, and Mildmay jerked his head in a nod. I helped him get it off me and held out my hands, wrists together. He was gentle, and I almost told him _harder, tighter._ My heart was already racing and he’d barely even touched me.

The night air was cold but Mildmay’s hand on my chest was warm, his body over mine was warm, and there was a heat deep inside me that I could not deny. I wasn’t hard, not yet, but I recognized the feeling, like slipping into a warm bath. It scared me, the push to surrender, to give in.

Mildmay was not, I reminded myself, one of the tarquins at the Shining Tiger. Mildmay was not Malkar. 

He would not hurt me.

He was still straddling me, hesitating, and I thought again of telling him to stop, that I didn’t need this, that I didn’t want it, even if I was a poor liar - but then he bent his head down one of his rough hands turning my head to the side, and scraped his teeth against the skin of my neck. Gingerly, like he was experimenting with it, and it was hesitant and inexpert and yet I shuddered with it, biting back the sound I would have made. 

His thumb pressed in under my jaw, over my pulse, and he did it again, less cautious, not quite biting down. My hands twitched and I dug my fingernails into my palms, quivering with trying to hold still. I waited for him to pull back, to change his mind, but instead his hand on my chest slid down over my side. His calluses were rough on my skin and I wanted him to dig his fingers into my flesh, hold me down with the weight of his body and let me feel _something_ that wasn’t despair and grief and self-loathing.

His hand moved back up over my chest and I shuddered, a small gasp escaping me. Mildmay’s hand stilled and pressed down, and I could feel his breathing on my skin, light and quick. “Mildmay,” I said, and then bit my lip, wondering if I should not have spoken his name at all, like that would make it less true, what he was doing. 

“Yeah?” He said, after a moment. I couldn’t think what to say and just lurched up against the pressure of his hand, and when he pushed me back down, a thrill went through me, running all the way down my spine. I could feel myself sliding into it, my sex responding, a combination of shame and want swirling in my stomach. I knew I must be flushing and was glad it wouldn’t be visible in the dark. 

“Felix,” Mildmay said, a little more firmly. _Don’t stop,_ I thought, but I was afraid to speak and turned my head instead to press my lips to his fingers. Mildmay’s breathing stuttered and I felt him twitch but he didn’t pull away.

Instead he moved, slowly, to stretch out over me. His hips pressed down against me, the solid weight of his body against mine, and usually I did not like to be pinned down like this, on my back, but just now it was something else clicking into place. I could feel Mildmay’s breath on my neck as one of his hands slid down my side to my hip and I felt myself tremble. Mildmay paused. My breathing felt unsteady and uncertain and I could not stop thinking that at any moment he would recoil in revulsion, curse me, _leave_ me.

One of his legs shifted, nudging mine apart and settling with his thigh against my groin. Both his hands moved to hold my bound wrists and he rocked against me, slowly; I cried out before I could hold it in and then bit my lip hard. I was shaking and could not stop. 

“Felix,” Mildmay said, his voice rough, and I took a deep breath and arched my hips as well as I could in what I hoped could be answer enough. I wasn’t certain what it was that I feared to say, only that it felt as though speaking might break this fragile-feeling thing and I could not bear to have it break. 

He said something under his breath, a curse or something else, and ground his leg against me again. Heat rose to my face as I twisted to meet him, or tried, only Mildmay put his forearm across my chest and shifted his weight to hold me down. My body went slack and my mouth opened, but no words came. Pressing his mouth back to my skin, again with just a brush of teeth, he started moving against me, and I _was_ hard now, my body loose and warm even as periodic shivers ran through me. 

At first it was enough, his body grinding against mine through our clothes, but I knew it wouldn’t be for long. Even if I could have made myself speak, though, and I did not know that I could, how could I possibly demand more, whatever I might want, whatever I might imagine Mildmay could do to me that I would embrace.

_Please,_ I almost said, but held it back, and yet maybe somehow he knew because he shifted, sliding his hand down between us, cupping me in his hand. I cried out again, my body bucking up toward him, grinding into his palm before I could hold myself back. “Good,” he mumbled, whether question or statement I could not say. I nodded frantically and Mildmay at last moved, slowly, to unfasten my pants and take my erection in his hand, skin to skin.

Something in me broke wide open and I heard myself let out a shuddering cry of a sound. My body throbbed and Mildmay’s other hand moved up my chest to my neck, his rough fingertips pressing into my skin, my pulse pounding against his palm. After a moment of gripping me loosely he withdrew and I almost sobbed, but it was only to spit in his hand so when he dragged his hand up my length it wasn’t dry - just on the edge of rough enough to scratch the itch I hadn’t let myself touch in years.

I shuddered once again and then went limp in perfect and utter surrender. “Kethe, Felix,” Mildmay said, and then, softer, “that’s it,” and I could have sobbed, something even deeper than relief flooding my body.

He began moving his hand, slowly. I heard myself let out a soft cry and felt him twitch, though I wasn’t certain with what, and it only barely registered. I was losing my thoughts in the rasp of his palm, his hand on my neck. He wasn’t particularly skilled - had never, I was quite sure, done this for any man but himself. Even so, that it was Mildmay - his long-fingered hands, his utter lack of artifice - had me trembling, coming undone.

I was thinking of nothing else. 

He worked me up to the point of climax and then slowed, stopped, and I cried out in inarticulate protest.

“I know,” Mildmay said, voice thick and uneven. “I know–”

“Mildmay,” I said breathlessly, and felt him shiver. He started stroking me again and I bit my lip, breathing through my nose in short, sharp, bursts. My hands twitched with the urge to touch, the desire to grab hold of his muscular shoulders, but of course I could not, and I needed that, _desperately_ needed it. I could not be trusted, not with myself and not with Mildmay, but I could trust _him._

I gave myself over into his hands. My soft cries gave way to louder sounds as shame bled away.

When I came, for just a moment it felt like it was only me and Mildmay, and scarcely any _me_ at all. 

* * *

I was floating. Or at least, for a few moments I was floating.

Then I came crashing back down to earth.

I started shivering, my eyes burning. I took a shaky breath in and tried to even out the exhale, but it didn’t work very well. Mildmay paused where he was untying my hands; I almost told him to stop but I didn’t trust my voice.

“Hey,” he said. I swallowed hard and could just see his eyes narrow. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it had been a while, and usually...once I had been better at holding it off, at least until I was alone. 

"Felix?" Mildmay said anxiously. I covered my eyes with my hand, free of the makeshift bindings, and turned my face from him. I felt shaky, raw, vulnerable, ashamed, and I wanted him to hold me but I was afraid to ask. 

"I'm fine," I managed to say. "It's not - you didn't--" _do anything wrong,_ was what I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't quite cohere correctly. My eyes stung. "It isn't you." Mildmay exhaled. "I just need a minute," I said, but I could hear my own voice and it sounded pathetic. 

"Okay," Mildmay said, sort of under his breath, and then moved slowly to lie down next to me. His fingers just brushed my arm and I turned toward him, unthinking, to press my face into his shoulder and - well - cling. I felt him stiffen, his sharp breath in, but he didn't push me away. After a moment, he put his arm over me and pulled me closer, and I shuddered with wretched relief. I should not need this. Should not ask it of him. And yet here I was. 

I took a ragged, unsteady breath, struggling to control myself. "Do you want me to...can I..." I set my hand against his hip and felt him flinch. I snatched my hand back, my stomach clenching. 

"Nah," Mildmay said after a couple frantic beats of my heart. "I don't need it." Something in me shriveled a little at the reminder that Mildmay had only done this for me, that he would never have chosen...that he might be repulsed, now, that he'd done it at all. I started to pull away, aching, but his arm didn't budge and he just said, "stay." I froze, and I could feel myself trembling. 

"Really?" I said. My voice sounded small and pathetic.

"Yeah," Mildmay said. It still felt like I should argue, but I was raw and fragile and selfish creature that I was I didn't want to. I wanted to be held and comforted and soothed, all the things I didn't deserve. 

"I got you," Mildmay said. It was as though he'd heard me, and I went limp. Somehow, that was the one thing I had needed to hear. 

I didn't have to fight. I could let go. Exhaustion swept over me, but it wasn't the numb and grey kind that had enveloped me since the Verpine. This was cleaner. It felt like tension released I hadn't known could be gone. 

I fell asleep like that, Mildmay holding on to me, listening to him breathe. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so _safe._

For once, I didn't dream.


End file.
